Small Head
the eleventh poem for a grass
A little skull sticking out of a gap
It is like making a statement about its new birth
Its charming manner, is an absolute rare
After harmonizing with non-homogeneous
in this corner the definite boosts obviously
The logic should be like this
Before it breaks the ground
It’s in the dull soil, but not assimilated
Its silence must have contained a lot of thinking
The crack, clearly displaying
that grass seed and the land have always had a counterbalance
Hardening, or blocking
either due to objective attributes or due to subjective human beings
just makes the seed adjust its steps
Nothing can stop it from going out to the outside world
